A Very Rosy Tale
by semiiramiis
Summary: While this one is a tie in to the earlier works: "The Last Days of Grace", "Criminals and Sinners" and "Forget to Remember"; this one could be read as a stand alone and still make sense.


A Very Rosy Tale

by

Semiiramiis

My husband's archivists have asked me to write this, and I'm not quite certain why. For posterity, they tell me. Whatever pleases them, I guess....

Part One: Rosy

I was born near a town that would be infamous, and my family name would become famous. I was given a child's name, just one of the children my mother and father would produce. As a family, we had many, and their seven contributions were not particularly noteworthy. Nor was I particularly noteworthy amongst my siblings, or amongst my even greater number of cousins.

I was tall, gangly and awkward, like a leggy plant determined to overgrow. My mother, my aunts, my sisters, all gazed at me with that half indulgent, half concerned look that older women are so good at. I didn't worry about them, what use were girls? They wanted me to wear skirts, clean the house, and learn boring things. The boys wanted me to climb trees, fish, and run through the woods with them, and that was so much better than ribbons in my tangled mass of walnut hair.

"More of a boy than a girl." My uncle Carlin told my father, who only laughed it off.

"Girl, boy. Doesn't matter." My heart belonged to my father at those words. "My flesh, my blood, my child. She'll be what she is, Carl. I won't make her miserable by pushing for her to be anything else but that."

"You're a wise one, Steb." Uncle Carl chuckled. I knew the underlying ripple. I'd heard it a thousand times before. My father, Esteban, while one of the elder sons, had been a wild one from the beginning. Never to settle, never to marry, and most certainly to never sire children, he had been imbued with wanderlust and a good dose of dissatisfaction with the lot he had been given. That had all changed in the war, he had returned a different man, intent on a wife, land, children. Until then, no one in their right mind would have labeled him as wise, most certainly not Carlin. "And the girl is the most like you of all of them."

It was not easy to see my father's face from the perch in the tree I was eavesdropping from, but it was obvious that those words did not please him. "I know, Carl. I know." He sighed, shaking his head.

"Not such a bad thing, Steb, to have a child that's truly yours. I would think...." Carlin let the words fade away, then ended them with a shrug.

"She'll leave here the same way I did, Carlin. And come limping home later, broken. I'd give anything to spare her that. I'd give her anything to make her happy right where she is, here in Darrowshire."

Carlin nodded slowly, running his fingers through his dark hair. "Some just aren't meant to be happy where they start, Steb. Maybe luck will smile upon our Rosy?"

"Maybe." My father answered, noncommittally, moving away from my tree, and out of my earshot. My uncle followed, and I scrambled out of my tree, watching them go. I didn't like seeing my father so darkly disturbed, it was a side of him I rarely saw.

"Rosy." I about jumped out of my skin, spinning on my cousin.

"Tarq!" I hissed, and he grinned a lopsided smile at me. "What are you doing, sneaking up on me like that?"

"You were eavesdropping." He replied. "You deserved it right back to you. Sneaking."

I wrinkled my lip at him. He was correct, of course, but I didn't need to hear it like that way. "Bleh." I answered, and he laughed. "Want to go fishing?" He asked, and I glared at him. Of course I wanted to go fishing, that went without saying. There was just one small problem...

"My mam will tan my rump if I smell like fish during the party, and mud, oh, la!" I put my open hand on my hip, and stood hipshot, waving my finger at him. He nodded agreeably, obviously he'd heard the same and was hoping I'd relent so he could blame it all on me.

"Seen the new babe yet?" He asked, and I nodded. I had, indeed. She looked, well, pretty much the same as every other new babe I'd ever seen, and with my family, I'd seen a lot of them.

"It's a babe, all right." I said, and he smiled.

"Well, at least there's a good amount of food to welcome her into the world."

That was certainly true. Every child of ours came into our family with a celebration, and the new one was no different. She was one of ours, our blood, and so very important for it. Her birth brought us cakes, great sides of roasted meats, the best that the bountiful land and our family could put on a table...

I heard it well before my cousin, the sound of hooves and the ringing of metal. Tarq meant to keep talking, but I shushed him with an imperious finger on his lips, tilting my head. "I hear...horses." I muttered, and he listened intently, waiting a breathless moment before he nodded.

"You have the ears of a stag and the eyes of an eagle." He said, and I beamed with pride. He was gone then, running towards the sound, and I pushed to catch up with him. There were five men on the road, paused in discussion, soldiers bearing the mark of Lordaeron.

"Paladins!" Tarq hissed, and the closest of them turned his head slightly in response. He raised a hand in greeting, and my cousin fell over his feet to make it to the roadway, his mouth hanging open in awe...and blatant stupidity. "Milords!" He managed in a voice gone even more broken and squeaky than usual.

"Good day, lad." The man in the middle chuckled. "Any trouble?"

I narrowed my eyes, as if. Every male member of my family free from the army was within half of a mile from here, there would be no trouble today. We had a new one, and that was all that mattered. "No trouble." I said when his eyes fell on me. "Not when we gather together like this."

"We?" He asked, pulling his helm off. It was a little disappointing, I was expecting something more awesome, not another man who looked entirely too much like my father, or any of my uncles. "You are?"

I glared at Tarq, and he was wise enough to hold his tongue. "I am Roseleyn Redpath." I stated, and the man raised a brow while his companions went suddenly, respectfully, silent. "This is my cousin, Tarquin."

"The Redpaths of Darrowshire gather? For what occasion?"

"We have a new baby." I stated, and he nodded, obviously well pleased.

"Good news, indeed." He sighed, gazing into the pristine blue sky. "So that is the smell on the air then?"

"Aye." Tarq was near foaming in anticipation, and I stared at him. "You and yours are welcome to come, to welcome her, and have some of that food you smell. There's more than enough." I finally got around to what he so desperately wanted me to say. "Come celebrate with us."

The older man smiled, glancing at his companions. "We'd be honored, young Roseleyn, to join the Redpaths on this blessed day. Would you like a ride?"

In spite of my urge to remain calm and collected, I could feel my eyes widen and I moved to the horse's side, taking his hand when he offered it. He pulled me up on the horse's withers before him, effortlessly, and one of his companions did the same with a beaming Tarquin.

I had never ridden before, and this was a grand experience, one I hoped would never end. Of course it did, quickly, when we rode up to the house. Conversations, jubilant laughter, all ceased immediately, and my father warily moved up. I expected questions, recriminations, but I certainly did not expect his response. He dropped to his knee before the horse, before the man who held me easily around the waist and guided the horse with his free hand. "Lord Uther..."

Tarq coughed behind me, and I froze in the man's grasp. _Uther? _I had walked boldly up to _Uther _and blithely invited him to Pamela's birthday party? I was an idiot, a fool... "Esteban." The man...Uther... chided, "No need to kneel before me. The young one here has invited me to the festivities, and I'd be honored..."

My father stood, his eyes going to my face before his expression lightened. "Of course, Lord Uther. We'd be honored. That is my daughter, Rose....leyn. Roseleyn."

"Ah." Uther gripped me and gently placed me on the ground. "She has your look about her. And your heart, I would say. So this is the measure of the young ones you've sired since leaving the army? Time and effort well spent, I say." He patted my head.

"Food for you and your men..." My mother ordered, her voice steel and command. Uther's brows rose again, and his glance flicked between my father, my mother, and myself. "Of course you are welcome." She continued, "Rosy, Tarq, will help you get comfortable, and then you'll join us." She punctuated the command with a flick of her fingertips, and I was so ordered. When my mother used that tone, it was more solid an order than any my father could come up with.

"Of course, mam." I breathed, wondering just what I had gotten myself into. This was the absolute _last _time I invited anyone I didn't know anywhere. Had I ruined the party? I glanced quickly around, meeting Carlin's eyes. He was the best measure, and he only had a wryly amused smile playing on his lips. No, I had not ruined it.

It was a marvelous party, and it heartened me that my birth had brought the same. Lots of wonderful food, games, music and dancing, the joy of my family, I was happy. I belonged. And, after the first few moments of stunned surprise, the five I had brought with me were made welcome. I was surprised by how many of the men who I knew as uncles, cousins, were known immediately by Uther. I was mostly asleep on the floor, in a pile of dogs and cousins, when I heard my father's voice. It was dark in the house, packed with children overtired from a long, hot day, while the adults still had time and partying left in them.

"Lord Uther. You honored us."

"Never, Esteban. Your family is a gift beyond measure to this kingdom. You honored me by allowing me to celebrate the birth of another Redpath. So the leggy girl is yours?"

"Roseleyn, yes. She's my third born, of seven. One of my two girls."

"Does she have the wander will as you did?"

I could imagine my father's suddenly distancing expression, the one he had shown Carlin earlier. "Aye, lord, she does." He finally admitted. "Always chasing dogs, horses, boys. Burrs in her hair and wild in her heart."

"Hmmm. She has a strong heart and the will to use it. The Order would have a place for her, if here is not where she means to be. Just a thought. She is young yet. There is time."

"While I see the honor you pay me, Uther, I'd prefer to see the girl just be a girl."

There was a dark chuckle, and it was all I could do to feign sleep. "A sentiment I know your father shared, Esteban. And you'd have done well if you'd had the support of someone who would have seen you through those wandering times. A sword or two at the back of a Redpath with wanderlust is not a bad thing."

"True enough. If the girl does not settle on her own, I'll consider it."

"Fair." Uther stated, and I heard his boots on the floor, leaving. My father was silent for a long time, before he came up to me.

"Ah, Rosy." He sighed, much too softly to have woken me if I was not already awake, and I didn't want to admit to him that I had been eavesdropping again. He stroked my hair for a moment, and his steps were heavy when he left. After awhile, the languid weight of the dogs, and my very full belly pulled me to sleep.

They were gone when I woke up, and I crawled out of my place and went outside. Tarq was right outside, his face alight. "Did you see them, Rosy?" He began immediately, and I stared at him. Of course I had seen them. For hours. They were men. Just the same as my father, as his father, as Carlin. Nothing that special about them.

"I did."

"I want to be a paladin." He breathed, his eyes on the calm farm around him. It wouldn't be calm for much longer, when the united families woke, but now was early enough. For a minute I debated telling him, but decided it would steal the shine from him. And as annoying as I often found him, I never wanted to hurt him. I wasn't certain how I felt about the idea of leaving here, going to the paladins, not certain if I could get my mind around the idea of becoming one myself. "Come on..." He grabbed my sleeve and pulled me along. He had something in mind, and I finally gave in and moved without his prodding. He took me to one of my favorite places, a deep ravine where we'd hidden countless times. "Look. Rosy. If I'm to become a paladin..."

I stared at him dubiously, somehow aware that trouble was coming. That formless gut knowledge solidified when he pulled an honest to the Light sword from where he'd hidden it under a pile of leaf mould. "We can train together." He continued while I stared at it, wondering just whose sword he had managed to steal, and how much trouble he was about to be in. "We've done it before."

With pitchforks and sticks, never this. My doubt deepened when he pulled another out and offered it to me. I should have known better, and yes... there was a lesson in this. Never, ever, go live steel against an awkward, graceless teenaged boy, and I learned it well. There was so much blood... I had seen blood by the buckets, in the autumn, when we butchered and made blood sausages, but that was fine. That was something else's blood, not mine. This, however, was most certainly mine. Lots of it. I was too stunned to truly understand what had happened, as was Tarq.

"Rosy?" He whispered, and I sat down abruptly. Blood. Mine. From where, and why couldn't I see properly? "Rosy? Um... what?"

From my head, I thought. My hair was matting with it, and it slid down my face, greasy, heavy, stinking of iron to cascade down my jaw. I wondered why I didn't panic, and then what I was going to do now. Maybe a towel, some water, no one need be the wiser.... We'd hidden a multitude of injuries that way. "I'm going to go get help." He stated, and was gone. That was odd, was it so bad that he didn't want to even try to hide it? I was getting dizzy and suddenly very ill, but lying back made me nauseous to even consider it. So I sat, watching my own blood slide down my nose and fall into my lap.

He brought back Carlin and my father, and neither one of them had the hysterical panic I was afraid of. They were both focused, deadly calm, and I wondered what Tarq had told them. "Rose." Carlin murmured, sitting beside me. That was a first, he'd always called me Rosy, the same as everyone else did. My father only glanced at me before dropping the battered field pack he was carrying and starting to remove its contents. "Let me see."

"How bad?" My father asked, as his brother cupped my chin and tilted my face up to the light. I felt queasiness rise, and it was all I could do to not fight him.

"Ugly. Good amount of blood." Uncle Carl still sounded calm, and it was a contagious calm in spite of his words. "Missed her eye. She's pretty much intact, and she's damn lucky. Clean, deep cut. She'll live and be little the worse." He glanced at Tarq at the words, and my cousin hung his head. "Come on, little one. Take you to the house and get you sewn up." He picked me up, apparently oblivious to the fact that when I rested my head in the cradle of his shoulder, I bled all over him. But then, I sensed that both of them had seen plenty of blood, human blood, before.

My mother stood where the yard gave way to high grass, and I could feel her rage from the safety of my uncle's grasp. "None of that now, Fina." Carlin stated, still as coldly, perfectly calm as he had been since appearing at my side. "Enough time later. We get Rose put back together, in bed and sleeping, and then we work all that out."

My line had never shied away from war, and all of its ugliness. At least one of my uncles had been a combat chiurgeon, and he took over from my uncle, handing me a cup with a glower that spoke volumes. Either I drank it, or he forced it down my throat. I chose to drink it, and the alternative might have been better. At least if I'd been struggling, I would have had something to get my mind off of it.

I woke in a strange place, in a bed. That was a rarity, at home I slept on the floor, the same as my siblings. I opened my eyes...both of them, which was a blessing. I saw out of both of them, and still had no idea where I was. I was in a large, airy room with several other identical beds, the one next to me was occupied, the others were empty.

"The lady awakens." The young man in the bed next to me noted, and I stared at him. I had no idea who he was, and I knew everyone from Darrowshire.

"Where am I?" I demanded out of a furry mouth.

"Stratholme." He answered quickly enough, and I blinked. Stratholme? That was leagues and leagues away from home. I had never, ever been that far away. It was a dizzying measure of distance... "You're in the Order's infirmary. Something about a training accident?"

No, that was not how I would have put that. Getting scalped by a clumsy idiot with a sword definitely fit better. "My cousin decided he wanted to be a paladin." I looked at him. Nice looking young man, and he didn't look like a Redpath, unlike most of the young men I'd lived my life surrounded by. His shoulder was immobilized in a tight bandage, and he looked remarkably bored and resigned. "He took two swords, and asked me to help him train. Damn fool tripped over his own two feet and about took my face off."

"You're not a member of the Order? I thought, when the Highlord himself brought you in, that you must be..."

"No, Justin." There was a voice I recognized. "I know this one's father, this one's uncles, and when I received word that she'd been injured, brought her here. She's still a little young for the Order yet."

"Lord Uther...what?"

He smiled at me, sitting on the chair between my bed and the young man's. "Roseleyn Redpath." He breathed, "Daughter of Esteban Redpath. Whatever the Order can do, we are at your family's service. If it means bringing you here to give you the best care possible, then we do it. I would enjoy the chance to show you what the Order offers, but if you choose to turn away, I will return you home." He gazed at my face, not quite in my eyes, and I suddenly realized he was studying the wound. I felt nothing, but that meant little. He caught my gaze, and smiled. "Nice scar, especially if you don't say how you got it. Clumsy cousin with stolen sword does not match that fine a mark. Let it build its own history, its own stories..." He dropped a mirror in my lap and I studied myself.

My first instinct was horror. I was scarred, marred, tarnished. The pale, tight line ran from deep in my hairline, across my forehead, through my brow and carried on a inch down my cheekbone. The scar had pulled the brow into a permanent, questioning arc, and caused my hair to fall at a rakish angle. "Oh....dear." I managed, and he stared back at me. "Um. Damn fool, I'm going to kill him for this!"

"That one is going through hell worse than any you could put him through, Roseleyn. He does it to himself, and nothing is more painful than that. He hurt you. He'll deal with that for a long time. Be strong, and let him get over it. You're well, let me show you Stratholme, the Lodge, and let me show you what I have to offer."

I had thought that Darrowshire was big, but I was wrong. Stratholme was huge, bustling, filled with sights, smells, noises unlike any I had ever experienced. At first, I was nervous, but then it faded. I loved it, all. So much to do, to see. And when Uther took me to the Order's school, that was it. Like every other Redpath child, I could read well enough, but this was so much more than my mother scratching words on a slate. This was a breathless expanse of knowledge, and they would have to tear me away from here.

They didn't try. My mother, father, and Carlin arrived almost a month later, and by then I fit into the Order like I had fit into my own family. My father still wore his stubbornly disapproving look, and my mother searched my face intently. "Rosy." She said, obviously struggling to find words. "You want to stay here? With the Order?"

"I do."

She tightened her lips, gazing at my father, then around the room we stood in. My father remained silent, distant. Carlin shrugged. "Rose." He said, to break the silence. "Why?"

"I love school. There's so much to learn here...." I let the words fade off, watching my parents. Surely they had to understand. It wasn't that I hated Darrowshire, it wasn't that I didn't love them. I just wanted more, and I'd found it here.

"I'm going to go talk to Lord Uther." My father sighed, my mother trailing him as he left. I watched him go, and dropped my head when he was gone. Carlin remained silent, big, strong in the corner.

"Why doesn't he understand?" I finally asked, trying to keep the whine out of my voice. He moved slowly, dropping a hand to my shoulder, and squeezing slightly.

"He does understand, Rose. That's what is bothering him. He'd prefer to see his children happy at home, far from trouble. He wants to forget the fact that we don't throw children like that. He wants to forget that he was just like you. He wants to forget that he married a woman who had fought alongside him, because he could not tolerate a farm wife. He gave you what you are, and now he has to face that. It's has nothing to do with you, Rose, and everything to do with him. You want to stay in Stratholme, attend the Order's school, and probably go on into the Order?"

"Yes."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Then do so. Your father will come around in his own time. It's time to live your own life, Rose. Do so. Make us proud."

"I will try, Uncle."

"Then you will succeed, Roseleyn." He spun on his heel and followed my parents out, leaving me alone in the room.

And so, I stayed in Stratholme long enough to complete my education, and to begin my paladin training. I wish I could say that I was the sort of paladin that stories are told of, but I was not. I had a quick mind, and a fine memory, and my book learning came easily. What did not were the lessons that required ability. That, I seemed to come without. I learned sword play by dogged rote, and sword play was one of those arts were inability often came disguised as brilliance. I was erratic, unpredictable, and I did amazingly well for it. Horsemanship, however, was not one of those. While I honestly liked horses, and they seemed to have no reservations about me on the ground, put me on one of them, and it fell apart. So I could not ride. My trainers brushed it off with the quick comment that a paladin did not truly need to have a horse understand them, they would have their soul mount, their charger, and all would be well. That would fill me with hope except for the fact that, while I was an incompetent rider, I was even less able to bring forth any sign that I could wield the Light. And if I could not wield the Light, then there would be no charger. There would be no Roseleyn, the paladin. And I would return to Darrowshire a failure. That idea filled me with a sick emptiness. By two years after I had been initiated, two classes had left me behind, but I had finally managed to claw my way to advanced training, and this was when I ran headlong into magic.

"She is incompetent." If he had said those words with some anger, some disgust, some derision, I could have snarled, but my trainer indicted me with sadness and anguish. "I do not understand, Lord Uther. You brought me a child with the heart, the will, the soul of a paladin, and I cannot seem to make her so. She has already fallen behind two classes, and will soon fall behind another..."

Hot tears blurred my vision. I was well out of view from my vantage point, Uther was mostly obscured behind a pillar, robed in shadows. "And still, she does not quit." He marveled, and I sighed.

"Quit? Roselyn? We will have to tear her from the Order, milord. Soon, I suggest, to end this torture."

And then what? I had spent almost four years in the Order's custody. I was no child anymore, but a woman grown. The main years I would have offered a master for apprenticeship had gone to them, irretrievably lost. Not that I had shown any sort of artistry to craft in, anyways. I was competent to maintain and repair my own gear. I supposed I could even make some, but it would never shine, just another mediocre effort amongst so many. I had no trouble in earning a man's affections, indeed, I had several young men willing to bleed for me, but as a sister. Marriage was out of the question. Return to my parents as a failure, yet another mouth to feed... My head spun from the unfairness of it all.

"What is her next benchmark task?" Uther finally asked, after an eternity of consideration.

"A charger, milord." My heart sank at the words. Never. It was never going to happen. "And without one, she cannot begin her mounted training. She cannot ride a normal horse well enough to continue."

Uther sighed audibly, and I could feel his distress from where I hid. "Let her try it if she will, Ranulf. I don't know what else to do. Is there anything else she has proven adept at, if it comes to that? We have taken her training years from her chasing what may now be a fantasy... My fantasy."

"She reads and comprehends like a scholar, I would say the Kirin Tor would want her, but she has no magical aptitude. Her hand is a travesty, half the time I believe only she can read her own writing, so she is no scribe or cartographer. Her crafts are uninspired, she can repair, maintain, but create...no. All of her blessings are in her heart, Lord Uther."

Uther growled like a peeved dog, and my master dropped his head. "Where we preach that the only true blessings _are_." Uther finally stated, and my master nodded slowly. "And none of her compatriots feel...more...for her? She'd make a fine wife to the Order if all else fails..."

If it were possible, Master Ranulf shrank even more. "No. They all love her as a sister, but no more."

Again, the growl. "Very well, let her try to bring a charger. If that fails, then I will see what can be done then." He was gone into the depths of the Lodge, while my master watched him go. When he was long gone, Ranulf merely shook his head and departed the other way, leaving me alone.

The day of my class's charger test dawned cool, with a clinging ground fog. Most of my class was in high spirits, I merely felt the emptiness that had come from too much worry to contain. Justin stood on the sidelines of the list, and I cursed him. He had been in my first class, and was now two seasons ahead of me. Why was he here, now? Probably the same reason why Uther was here, to see me. To see me fail, yet again. I was well past the point of feeling sick, and my heart was a resigned weight in my chest when they finally called me, last. "Roseleyn." Master Ranulf finally muttered, and his eyes begged me to refuse. My classmates silenced, their intent eyes locking on me.

"You can do it, Roseleyn." One of them encouraged, and the others let go a supportive noise. Easy for them to say....

The walk out onto the list was one of the longest I'd ever taken, and the only eyes I felt were Uther's. Half way, I felt calm, certainty. I _could _do this. Of course I could. I would. Uther could not be wrong. Carlin could not be wrong. I was a Redpath, and I would make them all proud of me.

I stopped on the battered square of ground, took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and began. And absolutely nothing happened. I cautiously squinted an eye open, and there was nothing there. I had...failed. In spite of two years of experience at failure, I was stunned, disbelieving. This time had felt different. This time had felt right. Now I felt every pair of eyes upon me, not only Uther's. I felt exposed, naked, and a sudden wash of panic and illness hit me. "Roseleyn." Uther's voice was gentle behind me. "Come with me, please."

Two years of panic, doubt and embarrassment erupted in me, and I turned on him. "This is all _your _fault!" I screamed at him and the lists went suddenly dead silent. "_Damn _you! _Damn _you to hell and back again!" He stood right behind me, well within reach, and I lost what little hold on sanity I had then, pounding on his chest with the heels of my fists, tears pouring down my cheeks. I knew I did not hurt him, physically, he wore full plate while I wore no armor, but his eyes were dark while his face was stoic.

"Roseleyn." He repeated with the exact same inflection as before, "Come with me, please."

"I _hate _you!" I screamed, all too aware I was being handled with the same careful calm as he would use on any injured animal. And that made me all the more enraged. The fact I was making a fool out of myself made me all the more enraged, which in turn made me make more of a fool out of myself. I understood it all too well, but had no idea how to stop it once it had started.

"Uther, what goes?"

Oh, I knew that voice. I didn't really know the person it belonged to, because quite bluntly, Roseleyn Redpath, three time hold back, did not run in the same circles as the Crown Prince of Lordaeron.

"I have this in hand, boy." Uther growled through my sobs. "Leave me and the little one be."

"No initiate should ever speak to you that way."

I had words for him, and lacking sanity, was more than willing to share them with him. Uther must have sensed my change of target, however, because he suddenly snatched me off of my feet and buried my face into the thick wool fall of his cloak over his shoulder, stifling any words I might have spewed. "Arthas, boy. As I said, I have this in hand." Uther breathed calmly. "Go, and allow me to do my job."

I could sense him leave, and he was well far away before Uther released me. "Roseleyn. Come with me, please." He repeated again in a lull of my noise.

"Lord Uther?" Justin sounded sick, distraught, the syllables of the Highlord's name fading into nothingness. "Please, don't send her away. We'll do whatever it takes, she'll get it eventually. She always does, in the end. We'll help..."

"Roseleyn Redpath. Walk off of this field with your head high, with dignity." Uther snarled, his voice pitched to carry only to me and Justin. "You've earned that much, at least. Don't make me carry you off. Allow me to spare you that, and walk beside me as an initiate of the Order."

I was walked off of the list field, between Uther and Justin, through the silent gauntlet of my classmates, both prior and present, dotted here and there with my masters. Uther led the way to his office without a word, opening the door and allowing me to pass within, trailed by Justin.

"Highlord...." He tried again, but ceased when Uther raised a stare to him.

"This has gone on far enough, Justin." He stated, placing a goblet on the desk before me and filling it from a skin hanging from his wall. "Drink, Roseleyn, and sit. We have much to discuss."

Not really. The main point was obvious, I had finally failed to such a degree that the Highlord himself was calling an end to it. I was going to be shown the gate in disgrace. It was _over_. The past four years of my life had been a waste. I tried the wine, it was dry and golden, and had a hefty kick. Under better circumstances, I would have loved it, now it just numbed my stomach.

"Roseleyn." He sighed, sitting in the chair across from me. "I wish I had words to express how I feel right now. It is my fault, and I accept that burden. I should have called an end to this sooner, but it always felt like you were just one moment away from an epiphany. Just one step away from the breakthrough that would make you the paladin I thought you were to become. I thought you just needed more time, more of our effort and patience. A late bloomer, so to say."

"And now you send me home in disgrace."

"There is no disgrace, Roseleyn. Something is wrong, and I will not stand idly by and allow you to throw any more of your life away on this. You've already lost too much. It is not fair to you. Not fair to your family. I will make absolutely certain that they realize this is no disgrace, Roseleyn. I will accompany you home, to Darrowshire, to explain it myself."

"What if I don't want to go _home_? They have no use for me there. I'm as incompetent to them as I am to you."

"You are not incompetent, Roseleyn, not a disgrace...."

"The hell I'm not!" I snarled back. "How dare you lie to me like this? _You_, of all people, to tell me I don't disgrace them!" Justin shrank in the corner, miserable and not trying to hide it, shaking at every grinding word I produced

"If you were mine, Roseleyn, I would be proud beyond words. If I were your father, there would be no bounds to how high I would hold you. And if you did not already have a father who held you that high, if you did not already have an army of uncles who would rise in rage against me for the insult, I would be happy to bring you to my household and call you daughter. But you _do_. Your family loves you, they had you, and they deserve you. And it would not be fair to leave you in Stratholme, on the Order grounds. The only way you're going to let this go is to go away."

"I've given you four years of my life."

Pain flicked through his eyes, and he took a long steadying breath. "Roseleyn, I'm going to dispute _that_. You've given us two years of your life, that I will accept. The two before were your education, which you excelled at, and is a gift from us to you. That will always be yours, and it will be valuable until the day you die."

"So what now? I just go away and that's it? Take my vaunted education and go rot in Darrowshire?" That was so pathetic, I was too old for that, and worse... while Tarquin had not received the open door to the great Stratholme as I had, he'd put himself before the much smaller lodge at Darrowshire, and been accepted. His letters made it obvious that _he _was not nearly as incompetent as I had proved to be. I remained silent as to the true progress of my training, and that silence had begun to cause concern in his letters to me. I had an unopened one on my bed, and my understanding of his training path meant it probably contained a glowing description of his shiny new charger, and some cautious questions about mine. "So I can go look at my cousin's new charger? Listen to my cousins as they wonder just out of earshot why I am such a botch?"

Uther swallowed his next argument, shaking his head and sighing. "I will only release you into your father's custody, Roseleyn." He stated coldly. "I will not be responsible otherwise. You are distraught, and not in your right mind. I will not place you in a position where you can do something foolish. I know this seems like the end of the world right now. You are hurt, embarrassed and angry, and it seems insurmountable. It is not. This too shall pass. I have every faith that you will find whatever it is that you are meant to be, but I don't believe it is here for you to find. When you find it, the Order will finance your training in it, and arrange the best masters the art has to offer to teach it to you. I am not trying to consign you to becoming a farm wife, Roseleyn, but I believe remaining in Stratholme is ill for you. And I would not see you face this alone. I will contact your parents and let them know..."

I overturned the chair in my speed to stand, almost crushing Justin behind the door when I threw it open and plunged into the hallway. Classmates who should have utterly no reason to rest outside of Uther's door scattered before me, and I cursed them all.

My cell was quiet, empty, and I slammed the door on the world. Tarq's newest letter rested on the gray wool blanket of my cot and I glared at it. I knew the smartest thing would be to ignore it, but I was not in a terribly smart mood.

_"My Dearest Cousin, Rosy. _

_I received your letter dated from the festival, and, as always, your words are a welcomed sight. I wish you could tear yourself from Stratholme long enough for a visit, these letters seem more and more distant the farther along we go. I know that you must be very busy there, but I can't help but think that something is wrong. If it was, surely you would share with me, but you are not. Whatever it is, we can face it together, Rosy. We are a family. Flesh, blood, all tied together. If there are problems in Stratholme, you know there are other lodges you could complete your training in. Darrowshire is not as prestigious as training under the Highlord, but is always an option. If I am wrong, just let me know, and tell me how things are going. I'm worried about you, Rosy._

_With all my love,_

_Tarquin Redpath"_

Well, at least it didn't mention his charger, or his progress at Darrowshire. He was correct, he was going to be the paladin. I was not.

I had fallen into a fitful, sick sleep sometime after midnight, and was awoken to the gentle touch of a hand on my cheek. "Papa." I breathed, and my father gave me a lopsided smile in answer.

"Rosy." He said, "I received word from the Highlord and came immediately."

Obviously. If he was here already, there had been a mage portal involved. Darrowshire was three weeks away by road. "I'm so sorry." I blubbered, feeling the same formless rage and frustration rising again. "I'm such a disgrace, Papa!"

He took me into his arms and rested my cheek against the curve of his shoulder. "Never, my Rose. I don't care what these foolish paladins have filled your head with, that will never be. And if that is what you believe, then Uther and I will certainly have words. How dare he?"

"Esteban." Carlin, as always, the one to try calm. "This is a tense situation. Do not make enemies you're not able to deal with... Uther, the Prince. We take Rosy and go home. Forget all of this, be gone before they know we were here..."

"While I appreciate the reasons behind that, Carlin Redpath, I do not appreciate the idea that you would sneak away in the dawn like thieves, with Roseleyn, like she has indeed done something to be ashamed of." Uther spoke from the dark well of the stairs beyond my door. "And I do have things that need to be said, to Esteban."

"I told you this would not go well, Uther." My father growled, and Carlin moved to allow Uther to stand within the doorway. "You were wrong."

"I was wrong." Uther admitted slowly. "You were right. That is all well and good, and cannot be changed. What now?"

"You made it very clear you wanted us to remove Rosy to Darrowshire, take her away from Stratholme and your precious Order. Sweep her under the rug?"

"Esteban." Carlin sighed, and his brother silenced, brooding and holding me close.

"The Order has no intention of sweeping Roseleyn under any rugs, Esteban... Carlin. You are the one who has come to smooth this over I would guess?" I could barely see Uther glance in my uncle's direction.

"I am. Esteban will say what he feels, when he feels it. He loves his Rosy, and he's sorely mad right now. I don't blame him."

"Neither do I. I suggest that the hallway and Roseleyn's cell is not the appropriate place for this. Let the girl dress, wash her face, and we can have breakfast in my office."

I had never felt less like eating, but Carlin nodded in agreement, and my father's silence was all the agreement we were going to get out of him. We had reached the point where no one even looked for my agreement. My uncle helped me wash the tears from my face, comb and braid my hair, and find a decent gown in my locker.

They escorted me to Uther's office, already set for breakfast for four, Uther staring out over the courtyard below. I sat, as did my father and uncle, and when we had, Uther turned and took the last remaining chair.

"What happened, Uther?" Carlin finally asked, after the food had been passed in silence. My father looked up from his unyielding glare at his innocent plate, his eyes on Uther. "Rosy's words home have become the words of a stranger these past two years, starting almost immediately after she initiated. And now, we receive word to come and get her, that she is gone from the Order. Just like that? What could she have done that was so heinous? She's high spirited, but never mean..."

"Roseleyn has done nothing wrong, Carlin. Nothing at all to see her removed from the Order. She has been a paragon amongst her classmates. Decent, kind, hardworking, strong, true. I will still, to this day, tell any who will listen that Roseleyn Redpath has the heart and soul of a paladin. Why the Light does not back that up, I cannot even begin to tell you. Yesterday she went out onto the field to call her charger, and nothing happened. I heard her call, I felt its rightness, and still...nothing. She has fallen farther and farther behind those she started with, and now, is irrevocably held back from them. Take her home, please. Balm her wounds, love her, give her the strength to carry on from this. And when she steps forward again, know that we will support her in whatever endeavor finally calls to her. She is no disgrace. No embarrassment. She has done you proud every step of the way."

Darrowshire was exactly as I remembered it. Small. Boring. Dull, even in this breathless moment of early spring. We walked down the pathway home in abject silence, my father brooding and dark, Carlin distressed, and myself... well, on Highlord mandated suicide watch. I had not eaten in three days, and the disjointed lightheadedness I was starting to get was oddly pleasant. It removed me from the immediacy of my problem.

My mother stood with Tarquin in the yard, my siblings conspicuously absent. They'd been sent somewhere to get them out from underfoot. That was fine, I barely knew them anymore. Tarquin had grown by leaps and bounds, now he was a fully fledged Redpath adult male. He'd had the common sense and decency to be here without any outward sign of his training, but I still hated him on sight.

"Go away." I said, before he even got started on the greeting hanging on his lips.

"Rosy?" He echoed.

"I said, go away. I don't want to see you. I don't want to talk to you. Leave me alone. Forget I was ever born."

My mother sucked breath to tear into me, and deflated when Carlin gave the sparest negative shake of his head. "Go home, boy." He breathed sadly. "Leave the girl be. Give her room, she needs it right now. You're the last one she needs to be seeing, and if you love her, you'll respect that."

"Yes, sir." He gave me one last glance, obviously hoping I would say differently, and then strode off back towards Darrowshire.

"I assume there was a reason for that evil hate I just had to stand by and hear blood give blood on my land?" My mother demanded, and my father nodded.

"Leave the girl be." He repeated his brother's words. "She's had a hard time of it. We'll figure out where we go from here, later."

It was a terrible time. My mother was, by her very nature, a grounded and pragmatic person. She was unfamiliar with failure because she never reached for things beyond her grasp. She ignored my father's dark moods because he was the man of the house, her husband, and it was not her place to say. I was another altogether. I had no privacy, expected by her to fall right back to where I had been before, asleep on the floor and out from underfoot at daybreak. Those days were gone, but she didn't seem to notice that.

"Eat." She ordered sharply and I glanced at her. I had not had an appetite since I had realized my time was gone in the Order. I was a large, brawny sort, and I showed pretty much the first moment I went off my feed, which had been days now.

"No."

"I said eat, Roseleyn." Four years ago, that would have been serious. When she stopped with the Rosy and went to the Roseleyn, that was letting me know she was running out of patience.

"And I said no. Leave me alone."

"If I leave you alone much longer, Roseleyn, there won't be anything left of you to leave alone." She pushed her madly curling red hair from her eyes and glared at me. "Enough of this foolish..." I heard the tirade coming and merely stood up and left. Exactly, enough of it. I disappeared into the woods like I had as a child, heading for my favorite place.

I was there for hours, trembling from the fact that I was stupid enough to have left the house without clothes enough for this time in spring. I wanted to curl up and die, and if I got cold enough, I might manage.

"So you are here, Rosy."

But I wouldn't manage it soon enough to avoid this. "Tarquin." I hissed, but the vile dissipated with my shaking lips. "Go away."

He took a page from my own book. "No." He disagreed pleasantly, gathering up a pile of nearly dry wood and starting a fire. "And when you get strong enough to make me, I might consider it. Here, you fool." He rested his cloak over my shoulders, "Before you catch death of cold."

I wished it didn't feel as good as it did. I wished that the stew he started didn't smell as good as it did. I wished I didn't start crying again, and when I did, I wished he didn't feel as good as he did when he pulled me into his arms. "Rosy." He mourned, rocking me. "I simply do not understand. No one does. We received word from Stratholme that you were released from your vows to return home, with no penalty or disgrace, and that we were to be there if you turned to us for aid. Every time I've seen this done has been for a family emergency, and I know we have none."

"I'm incompetent. I never could do any of it, Tarq! I tried and I tried, and nothing. I worked so hard, and.... You've made it farther than I ever did already." In half the time. What a waste.

"I...don't believe that, Rosy." He whispered, stunned. "Uther himself came for you. You've been an initiate at Stratholme for two years now. I...don't believe you. You're lying!"

I stood, rolling my head on my shoulders, and stared at him. "Fine. Here. Proof." I put out the call again, and just like before it seemed so right. And just like before, there was nothing but an odd almost catch and then dizzy emptiness. No charger. Nothing but the trees crying for me. "No charger. No weapon. Nothing, Tarq. I'm a failure, a pathetic waste..."

There was another man there, who had appeared looking puzzled and now, enraged. "You must be Roseleyn." He stated, and my cousin bowed his head quickly, too wound up in keeping me warm to stand as I knew he wanted to.

"Master." Tarq breathed, "She's not in her right mind. She's sick. That's why it didn't work..."

"No. She's correct, that didn't work at all. I heard her from the road, it was that loud, that clear...." He glanced around, "And that futile. And it didn't work at Stratholme? When you were hale?"

"No." I groused, knowing I faced Darrowshire's master. "It failed before Uther, before Arthas, and pretty much every person I had ever trained with."

"Ah, poor Rosy." Tarquin soothed, while his master squatted to stare at me.

"I don't understand." He finally stated. "I see why Uther took you away. I see why he was willing to keep trying for so long. And yes, we are at your service to help put things back together, if you stop trying to kill yourself the slow hard way. This lug has been pining over you for years, if you went and did that, he'd be heartbroken."

"I hate you." I growled, and he raised a brow. "I hate all of you."

"And I'm very sorry for that. Eat. And go home. Keep putting one foot in front of the other until you pass through this."

Tarquin took me home to my mother, who glared through me. I wished there was a place I could be by myself, away from them all, but there wasn't. I curled up on the rug and finally fell asleep, ignoring them all.

I woke at midnight, wide awake. Suddenly I couldn't stay here another moment, the air was heavy and unbreathable, and I felt panicked. I dressed for the weather, skulking around, and gathered my pack. It was time to go. Why, I couldn't say, but it was. I never meant to run away, actually that night, I never meant to do anything. But run away, I did, from the family who loved me and the Order who tried to still support me.

I made it far down the way before I collapsed under a tree, too tired to continue. The grass was wet in predawn, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter that I was freezing. I was tired. I was finished. Why? Why didn't it work? It was so simple, and I was so worthless... All I had to do was delve deeply into my soul and call it forth...and nothing. Hot, bitter, tears rolled down my nose as I cried so hard I choked.

I had cried myself to a near oblivious state when I realized I was not alone. There was the shift of a great body, the grinding tear of teeth on grass next to my head. I glanced up and saw a hoof and a nose. The horse grazing next to me swiveled an ear at me when I sat up, but kept right on eating. "Hello, there." I said from a throat gone raspy. He lifted his head to glance at me, and blew at me through his nostrils. He hadn't been here before, that I was certain of. There was no way I could have missed a great, gray horse like this. A great, gray horse wearing a blue halter, the lead of it knotted up high around his neck so he did not step in it. It was a horse. I had summoned a horse. Not a charger, really, those appeared on the list field glowing, barded. Those were perfect in every way, and this one was not. He had overly large ears, a rather pronounced bump on his lower lip, and tremendously large hooves and knees. He was gray, yes, but not the shining perfect white of a charger. He was darkly dappled, like bubbles caught under river ice, with a black tail and mane. I had summoned a... cart horse. "Wondrous." I hissed, and he only gazed back at me mildly. The very expression of my soul was...this, but he would get me farther down the road, farther away from the Order, farther away from my family, farther towards finding myself. I pulled him close to a low lying branch and clambered onto his back. I expected a cart horse ride, but he gathered under my hand and stepped into a fluid stride, his head carried majestically. It was perfect. I could ride this.

It was a beautiful day for a ride, and by noon, I felt much better, enough to realize I was hungry. Starving.

I ate dried field rations sitting next to the horse, who went back to grazing as if the past eight miles had been nothing at all. I was tired, I'd been going for twelve hours. First on foot, and then on horseback, but the sun was high in the sky, and after I'd eaten, I pressed on, aimlessly. And that was to be my pattern for the next six weeks, traveling aimlessly along, a farm girl on a cart horse, ignored by most who passed me by. Even those who were actually looking for me overlooked me, and that made me almost sad. Almost. I passed by several paladins on the road, and I knew they were looking for me. I met their eyes, smiled at them, and kept right on riding. None of them knew me personally, and none even stopped to question me. I passed through them as if I did not exist. I felt as if I didn't.

I found the track high on a mountain path, barely noticeable, and decided to follow it. It led, after a long time, to a ramshackle cabin, and a rather better barn. There was a body in one of the rooms, dead awhile, with no marks of violence. The hair on its head was silvery and thin, the person had been elderly. I buried them, repeating the words I'd learned at the Order. Here, in the silence and the distance, they seemed to fit better than in the chapel. "Sorry you can't have a real paladin do this for you...maybe later." I breathed, looking around. I had felt called to leave, and now, no longer felt determined to keep going. Here was as good as a place as any other, high and lonely.

I stayed most of the summer, well aware I would not be able to stay through winter, and I dreaded the cold. I would be forced to return to Darrowshire, to deal with my family, all to avoid freezing to death or...

Horse made an alarmed noise behind me, and I turned. A man, no...two men stood staring at me like I was some sort of apparition.

"She's....filthy." One of them stated, as if I was well out of earshot. I was not.

"Still a woman, and when's the last time you saw one of those? And I smell food..."

No. After all this time, and this was how this ended? Of all the...

"And don't forget the horse. He's a big fellah." Horse had sidled away from them, as close to me as the rickety fence would allow him to go. If he leaned, it would fall, and he definitely looked like he had leaning on his mind. "Hey, there, pretty." One of them grinned at me, exposing a mouth full of teeth that should never see the light of day. "Come say hello."

I had been working my way towards a cold panic, and it was suddenly gone. I felt calm, secure, _safe_. "Goodbye." I replied mildly. "You two need to just keep right on down the path."

"Not going to happen, pretty."

I had fallen into a combat stance, worthless since both of my hands were empty... But they weren't. There was a sudden weight in my grasp, and when I pulled my sword arm up to point at them, I bore a sword. A glowing sword, and there was a tile of intricate rune work around my feet. There, high on the brow of Lordaeron, I had the epiphany that Uther had sensed coming. I just took about four times longer to get there than my brethren did, but I got there. On my own, and it was time to return. Not to Darrowshire, but to Stratholme, and the Order. I walked past the two of them as if they, and not me, did not exist. And neither of them moved to stop me. I did not move to stop them either, their time upon this world was short enough, I did not need to hurry it.

I was filthy, skinny, bedraggled and wet when I finally made my way back to Stratholme. Winter lurked in the evenings, just waiting its turn, but I made it ahead of the true beginning of cold, but that day was bright and sunny.

"Out of the way, wretch." A man snarled at me, and I stepped under the fast elbow he'd thrown at me. "Worthless filth."

"Empty man." I retorted back and he rolled away from me, rage building in his eyes.

"Guards!" He yelled, and that was how I found myself in Stratholme's gaol. Actually it wasn't a bad place, considering. It was fairly warm, dry, and the straw was cleaner than the muddy ground I'd been sleeping on. There was food, quickly, almost still hot and definitely filling. Maybe I should have gotten myself arrested sooner. The guards treated me well, more than a tinge of regret in their features.

"At least it's out of the wind, lass." Their sergeant, an older man with a warrior's eyes, stated. "Tonight's going to be a raw one. Probably better for you here than out there, and we'll see what's to be done with you in the morning. You have a name?"

"Roseleyn." I half expected him to recognize it. He did not, only snorting at it.

"Pretty name. See you in the morning."

I slept better than I had in a long time, almost warm, and almost full. "Up and at them, girl." The same sergeant greeted me, and I rolled out from the straw and peered up at him.

"Morning." I muttered, standing, and starting to pull the worst of the straw from my hair. "I go this morning?"

He sighed in deep disgust. "No. He's charging you. Do you know anyone in town who might help? Someone to speak to the judge in your favor?"

"I do." I had almost all of it out, as much as I was going to manage without a comb. He looked at me intently, hopefully, and I shrugged. "Uther Lightbringer. Or any of the masters of the Order here in Stratholme..." His brows soared for his hairline. "Tell them that Roseleyn Redpath returns, please."

He stared at me for a long moment, waiting for me to giggle, and when I did not, he nodded, spun, and moved away. Another guard brought breakfast, and it was as good as the dinner before had been. I ate, and waited.

I did not have to wait long before I heard the strides of multiple pairs of heavy boots behind me. "Roseleyn?" Uther demanded, and I turned. Justin stood beside him, his gaze hopeful. It lit up immediately when he recognized me, which took a couple of moments longer than it would have normally.

"Lord Uther."

"Roseleyn." He studied me carefully. "You look better than I feared, and worse than I hoped. You live. And are back in Stratholme. Can I ask why you've come here? Not that I'm not ecstatic to see you alive, but if you were to return anywhere, I would have thought Darrowshire.... Never mind, let the woman out. She's one of mine."

"Right away, milord." The sergeant grinned at me, opening the door. Justin wrapped me immediately in his cloak, pulling it tight around me, while Uther stepped out of my way. I was taken back to the Lodge, given one of the guest rooms, new clothes and a bath. I looked almost human when I stepped back out onto the list field, _that _list field, for the first time in six months. My passage brought silence again, and Uther merely nodded at me.

"Roseleyn. Will you return to Darrowshire now? I assume you have turned up again now that winter comes?"

"I will not return to Darrowshire, Lord Uther."

His face fell, and Justin, standing just beyond him, cut off a curse. "Lass..." Uther began, then arced a brow at me when I made a quick cutting motion with my hand.

"Lord Uther." I put my belly beneath my voice, raising it to compete with the wind, the horses, the men, on the list. "My masters of the Order. I have come to take my next test."

"Damn it, Roseleyn." Justin snapped and silenced when Uther glanced at him.

"What is it I am required to do before I can continue with my training?" I demanded, and Ranulf moved into the open.

"You must call a charger, Roseleyn. You know that already. That is the absolute minimum."

I nodded, striding into the open list, close to him. I closed my eyes and cupped my hands in front of me. There would be no great, silver, fancy charger come to that call, but I felt him, smelled him, his lips tickled my hands and I opened my eyes to study him. "My charger, Master Ranulf, Lord Uther."

Uther moved up, tilting his head. "Well, it's a horse. And it is summoned. She has adequately tapped that power within her soul." Horse flipped a large ear at him, then shook his head, his forelock and mane flying. "Nothing states what it must look like."

Justin's face glowed with relief and joy, and I felt my own heart reflected there. The barding was a little more difficult, but I had successfully called it upon the trip back, and it came again when I called. It was not as shining, not as brilliant, but again, it was adequate, and adequate was all I was going for. I mounted him, gathered up his reins and felt him come back to his bits, his neck arching and his stride beautiful.

"And she can most certainly ride him, Ranulf. Her next test is?" Uther asked calmly.

"Her weapon..."

I extended the length of the suddenly existing blade out to him, hilt first. He took it, weighing it in his hand, studying it. "Very well, Roseleyn, I understand that you have overcome whatever block you had and are ready to reenter your training."

Part 2.

Roseleyn.

It was raining. Again. Or still, I wasn't quite certain which applied. I had soaked through my gambeson, my boots, and everything I wore had an unpleasant squish. I sat on a rock next to the campfire and sighed. We'd been here for months, and had made little headway.

"It ain't training if it ain't raining." Justin chuckled next to me, and I glared. He'd grown up a great deal from the first time I had seen him in the Stratholme infirmary, broad with muscles. "How's your leg?"

It hurt like hell, and I flared my nostrils in response. "This isn't training." I replied, "And it hurts still."

Doubt crossed his features and he moved, kneeling before me and removing the poultice from my leg. Damn trolls and their poisoned weapons... It had not been a deep wound, I'd lived through worse, but this had dug in and refused to move. "Don't like it, Roseleyn." He finally admitted, tilting his head to study it. If I had not been a paladin, with the full support of a camp full of paladins and priests, I would have died three days ago, when I had been injured. I glanced down at it, it was still inflamed, the skin around the oozing slice was distinctly green, and green was not the usual color of my skin. I was the daughter of a red head, and it showed in my pale complexion. "May remove you from the field." He said, and I crunched up my face and sneered at him. He did not outrank me...

However, that one did. Justin had timed checking the wound, either by accident or design, to coincide with our officer's pass through the camp. Æthel frowned when he noticed, and crouched on my other side. "Still not budging." He stated with a sigh.

"No, sir." Justin answered, as if I had no tongue to answer for myself. "A dark poison, indeed, to lay one of us up like this. Roseleyn, especially."

"She's unfit for combat." Æthel replied, still talking over my head. "Your take on this, Roseleyn?"

Ah. I finally existed. I looked at my leg, willing it suddenly heal. It did not oblige, and I sighed in blatant disgust. "While I do not want to leave the field, sir, I also do not mean to be a burden." And like this, I certainly was. We were removing as many non-combatants as possible during this lull in the fighting, and I was a fool to think I wasn't one of them now. "I will pull back to the rear encampment."

"If that doesn't improve in the next day or so you'll go farther than the rear, Roseleyn. Stratholme would be my guess."

Oh, that was terrible. To be completely removed from the field was embarrassing, depressing. "Yes, sir." I muttered, and he raised bright blue eyes to me.

"Roseleyn. You've been in the field for months now. It may just be time to send you back anyway. No dishonor there."

"Bed. Bath. Real food." Justin began, obviously trying to sweeten the deal, and I glared him until he silenced. "Roseleyn." He sighed, folding a fresh bandage and placing it on my wound. "This is not getting better. You'll eventually reach the point where you fail before it. You seem to be doing well now, but how long is that going to last?"

I contemplated the muddy ground before me. I knew the answer, not much longer. Already, I could feel the fever rising, barely held at bay... As if he heard me, Æthel rested the open palm of his hand on my forehead. "That's it, Roseleyn." He stated, rising to his feet. "To the rear. They can decide whether or not they hold you or send you farther back. But you're not staying here. Do you need Justin to accompany you?"

Justin looked hopeful, but I ignored him. He didn't get to go behind lines with me after this, no. "No." I groused, rebuckling my legplates down. "I can find the rear all on my own." I stalked away, under Æthel's steady gaze, trailed by Justin.

"Roseleyn." Justin began, when I grabbed my charger's reins and set myself to mount. "Don't..."

I knew exactly what he meant, but I had been oddly angry and temperamental since the morning after I'd been injured. He was trying to do what was best, and that was all too obvious when my hand was shaking too hard to steady my stirrup. "Rose. You're my friend. My sister. I've known you for six years, served with you for four, makes you more than just that. Get this seen to, before I pick you up by the scruff of your neck and drag you there myself. No damned troll takes you like this." He interlaced his hands together, kneeling so that he could give me a leg up on the charger and strode away when I was safely seated.

I clicked my tongue and started out along the pathway back to our rear encampment, trying to ignore the fiery pain that jolted through my thigh with every bounding stride. The trees were thick, and I cursed Zul'Aman with a bitter intensity that bothered me. I'd been in bad places before, and never hated them quite this much. A branch bounced in front of me, and it caught my eye from its very wrongness. A form, green, slipped from it, deeper into the tree, and I growled. Troll. No...worse...multiple trolls. One, I might consider trying to handle, but more than one, no. Not like this. I sat deep into my saddle, gave my charger his head, and quite bluntly ran like hell. I should have let Justin come with me....

They chased until I was almost on the verge of the encampment and then vanished as if they were nothing more than the leaves on trees. I almost ran down the guard, but his intense stare behind me let me know he'd seen them as well. "They grow bold." He growled, taking my reins. "Greetings, Roseleyn."

Now that I enjoyed a modicum of safety, I knew I had worsened. My gambeson was drenched, and a lot of it was my feverish sweat and not the insistent rain. "Greetings." I responded, and he studied me.

"You don't look so good. What's wrong?"

"Wounded." I stated, and his grip tightened on my reins as he led my horse forward, his other hand resting on my thigh. Thankfully it was my off thigh that was wounded, and he was on my near side, of course.

"Just now?" He asked, jerking his head at another guard moving up. "Take my spot while I walk with Roseleyn. She's injured."

The encampment was in one of the rare clearings in Zul'Aman, filled from edge to edge with resources, our resources. Our people, including those in training considered too young and green to be on the line, but too old to not be useful. Our support. Our supplies.

I was walked to the triage tent, and Malvery, the priest in charge nodded to me. "Roseleyn, come to help?"

I wished. "I'm one of your patients." I said, and he gave me more than his halfhearted attention, wiping off his hands.

"You don't look so good."

And he was so very observant. I sat on the cot he motioned me to, and hissed as he started peeling back bandages. The guard looked alarmed, and I looked down. Ewh. That looked worse, the mad gallop through the trees had done it no good. "Good, it's bleeding." Malvery stated, grasped my upper thigh and the last thing I remember were the words "Hold on to her, she's going to go over."

An evil, insidious chuckle dragged me from a deep sleep. "Shut up, damn troll." Malvery hissed from close by. "Don't tempt me to kill you."

"She got da bad mojo, that one does. Bad, bad mojo. Bad, bad poison. You be puttin' her down, you be."

"Shut up." Justin's voice erupted and there was a loud bang. My eyes flew open, but not much else wanted to move.

"Where am I?" I asked, and felt multiple pairs of eyes on me. I was tied into a stretcher, bundled for transport, somewhere.

"Still in Zul'Aman, Rose. We haven't been able to get you out of here yet. You need to sleep now. I'll watch over you." He rested a cool hand on my forehead, and I closed my eyes in reaction. It felt good. I felt so wrong.

"Why are you here?" He was supposed to still be on the front, and I was not.

"To secure our rear. Rosy, just sleep, please. You're really not well. And you shut up." That must have been an aside to the as yet unseen captive troll. "We're going to get you out of here, Rosy. Really, just hold on..."

"It's good that she's awake, Justin. I know it's hard on you to watch her like this, but it's good to know she's not so far gone."

"I know..it's just hard. I want to see her back in Stratholme..." I heard a foreign sound in Justin's voice, and opened my eyes again. He was worried...frightened. I had him that worried. "Pretty Rosy." He breathed, and planted a kiss on my brow. "Is there anyone in the theater we should let know that you're down?"

"My cousin is on the line as well. Farther south... Tarquin Redpath." There must have been some sort of look pass between Justin and Malvery, because the priest answered.

"Tarquin Redpath is a paladin from the Darrowshire Lodge, deployed with them. He was raised with Roseleyn until she was brought to Stratholme, if he's in the area he should know, yes."

"I'll find him for you, Rose." Justin promised, planting a kiss on my sweaty brow. I was asleep before he'd had time to move away.

I dreamed. I dreamed I was a child in my father's arms, safe, beloved, while he sang to me, and called me Rosy. I dreamed I was in Darrowshire, a world away from the hell of Zul'Aman and the poison coursing through my veins.

"Rosy. You need to wake up." It was the voice that had been singing to me, the one I had mistaken for my father's. It was an understandable mistake, they sounded much the same. Their voices had the same timbre, inflection, flow... but this was Tarquin who pillowed my head in his lap, who sang the songs of my childhood to me. "Please."

"Tarq?" My lips were like sand, my tongue dried. "By the Light, I'm thirsty." I grumbled, and he laughed in joy.

"Of course you are, Rosy. You've been asleep for days. You need to drink, yes. This."

There was the edge of a cup at my lips, and I swallowed greedily until he took it away from me after only two gulps. Then I realized how terrible it tasted, somehow managing to be watery, sweet and meaty all at the same time but I still wanted more. "Slow, Rosy. You need to take it slowly." He chided, "And keep it down this time."

There had been a time before? If there was, I could not remember it. "What the hell happened?" I demanded, finally getting a good look around me from the safety of his lap. Something had gone terribly wrong. I knew I had gone under in an infirmary tent, watched over by our rear echelon. Now I was propped in Tarq's lap, and the very air around me was green and dappled from the trees arching over me. Sleeping so closely to me that he was wrapped around my knees... Justin. Those around me were an amalgamation of my Stratholme unit, and Tarq's Darrowshire lodge, front line soldiers. No longer was I in the rear, with the gear.

"They hit our rear presence." Tarq grumbled, offering the cup again, "About a day after I received word you were down, and I arrived. It was decided you'd be better off with us than with the rear." If that was so, then things had gone very badly indeed. "This one and I have been taking care of you." He inclined his chin in Justin's direction. "Have some more."

I drank another couple of swallows, realizing I was drinking meat broth mixed with honey, hardly what I would choose under any circumstances. Even at the most repulsive, my mother had never offered me anything like this. If I was sick, I got puddings. "That's awful." I grumbled, and he snorted.

"Kept you alive this long." He replied, placing the flat of his hand over my forehead. I was tired, beyond exhausted, willing to rest against him. "Tell me of this one." He said, "Justin. You could bring home worse."

"It's not like that. He's another brother, another cousin." Like I didn't have enough of those already.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Rosy."

"Maybe I'm just destined to be the maiden aunt, the ones your children come to when they can't come to you." I joked, feeling much better now that I had something in my stomach. I didn't want to linger on this. This was yet another failure of mine. "Tarq, please. There is no one like that. Let it lie." I continued when I felt him gather for another attack. "Men just don't like me like that..."

He growled a dispute, but remained silent otherwise, apparently content to hold me, rock me and stare into the ceaseless green trees. "One of these days, Roseleyn, one of these days." He finally sighed. "What is the world without more Redpaths?"

I chuckled, leaning into his comforting bulk. "The world is hardly in danger of losing the Redpath blood, Tarquin. There are so many of us..." We were strong stock. We bred well, throwing strong, healthy children.

"Never enough." He comfortably slung an arm around my shoulders, while his eyes never stopped scanning the trees. I knew he watched, while Justin slept. And when Justin woke, they'd switch off. "And certainly the world is not complete without my Rosy's babies."

Thankfully, once the poison was purged from my body, I healed quickly under his and Justin's healing prayers, because the trolls seemed to believe that the world would be complete without Rosy's babies, and without Tarquin's babies as well. The trolls pressured us constantly, and by the second day after I had regained consciousness, I was on my feet and fighting beside the two most important people in my life. I was fighting as a paladin of the Order, something I had struggled long and hard to achieve, and it was all good.

We held out waiting for relief for another three weeks, three weeks of living on next to nothing, three weeks of incessant skirmishes, three weeks of sleepless nights, before Uther finally managed to fight his way to us. Somehow, I'd expected to feel...better...when he arrived, but judging by Justin's stormy stare when the Crown Prince rode up, I was not the only one who felt less than enthusiastic.

"Damn fool." Justin snarled under his breath, and I gave a short nod in agreement. Arthas was golden, shining, every link of his armor in place, a benevolent smile on his face. I wondered what he would look like if he'd been one of the ones lost in front of the lines for a month, and that caused my own smile, less than benevolent, to form. "Down, girl. I don't know what you're thinking, but it's bad."

I shrugged, it didn't really matter. If Arthas had been cut off as we had, Uther and Terenas would have moved the skies and ground to get him back. We were just servants of Lordaeron....

"Well, they came." Tarquin rebutted, and I nodded. Yes, they had. I had to give him that one. We were going home, finally. Zul'Aman was over for us.

There were trees along the road, but these were familiar trees, the trees I had grown up climbing, sturdy oaks and gnarled apple trees. We were not far out of Darrowshire, and I grinned at Tarquin. Justin caught the grin and looked blankly around for a long moment, before realization dawned and he smiled at us. "Welcome home, you two." He chuckled. He hailed from Stratholme, and we had already passed through there, heading on towards Lordaeron City.

"Roseleyn! Tarquin!" Uther barked from the head of the column, and I put heels to Horse and loped along the deep grass beside the road to catch up with him. "Take the column forwards." He ordered, falling back towards the middle. I looked at Tarquin and shrugged, falling into the correct position at the front of the column. A little ways farther down the road, I understood why. I remembered watching armies go down this road from my childhood, it had just never occurred to me that I was now _in _the army passing by Darrowshire.

Tarq blushed suddenly, and his charger lagged as it sensed his trepidation. Mine gathered his weight up on his hocks, his stride becoming bouncy as he poured it on, nose tucked towards his chest, ears held at full attention.

Darrowshire had turned out in force, I recognized so many faces, and heard my name carried in a yell from many throats. Cousins, friends, my siblings... But that all paled to what waited at the crossroads. My father stood there, with my uncles, each a veteran of wars before my time, stoic in the bright sunshine. They were not cheering, not yelling my name, or Tarquin's. When I pulled up even with the first, Carlin, he clapped his fist to his chest and saluted my passage. It was followed by each of my uncles in turn, ending with my father. Esteban's stare on me was eagle intent, deathly proud, and there were tears in his eyes. I had never felt so worthy in my entire life when I returned his salute, never felt so whole, so pure. It was the finest day of my existence. I was Roseleyn Redpath, and like my blood before me, I served Lordaeron.

From one extreme to another. I was fairly warm, cocooned between Justin and Tarquin, but there was frost on the blankets covering me, frost from my own breath. All but the most stubborn had decided this was the way to do this, one bedroll was too thin. Two offered more warmth, and the warmth of another body helped tremendously. Few had gone for three, but then, few had the blood and history we did. "Why can't we fight in a nice place?" I wondered, and Justin hushed me.

"Stop talking, Rose." He chided. "Heat escapes from your mouth when you do. Just go to sleep."

"I love the two of you. I really do." Why I said it, I wasn't certain, but I just blurted it out. Tarquin, on my other side, was faced away from me, and I felt him chuckle.

"So you two work on having a baby." He muttered, "I won't watch, I promise."

"Go to sleep, Tarquin." Justin sighed. "Rose. Both of you are terrible."

"She's _my _cousin. My first cousin, blood of my blood." Tarquin noted, turning over and burying his face in the wild mop of my hair. "What's your excuse?"

Not again. I pulled the blankets over my head and willed myself to sleep. I did after awhile, finally warm enough, or exhausted enough.

"I love ogres. They're always so _happy _to see me." I stated, and Justin nodded. Keep the road open for passage, without passage we could not support Alterac's jeopardized remnant human population. Their nobility had committed grave crimes in the last war, but the population was innocent of them, and with their army destroyed and their leadership in hiding, they were open for the picking.

"Definitely ogre scat." He agreed, and I wrinkled my nose. Filthy, disgusting creatures. I mounted up, turning Horse's woolly face in the direction the ogres had gone in. My oh, so lovely charger had exploded in hair at the first hint of a snowflake. He seemed twice as large now, and four times as much like a cart horse. Justin's charger was slim, svelte, and looked more than a little miserable under his barding. "Why does your cousin push...us?" He asked, mounting.

"Tarquin dreams of raising his children next to mine, as we were raised. I am not looking for that right now, Justin. I fought too hard to become a paladin to let it slip away like that."

"I know you fought hard, Rose. I had to stand by and watch...."

The boulder impacted just forward of my knee, bowling Horse over into Justin's charger. He let go of a piercing scream and dissipated, dropping me on the ground. There was the jubilant laughter I was accustomed to from ogres, and they boiled out from the rise above us.

_Too damned many! _Was my first coherent thought when I came to my feet again. I didn't even bother to count, but I was certain I didn't like the odds. I almost panicked again, but that odd calm fell on me again. There was no running. Just like there was no mediocrity, no simply adequate right now. If I was either, Justin would die. He deserved for me to be a paladin of his ability, on his level, and I was going to be.

That was the day I found my dance. That was the day I became a true paladin. That was the day I became Roseleyn, the Resolute, a paladin worthy of my blood, my name, the trust and hope of others. I did it in front of an awestruck Justin and yes, in front of Uther, who had just crested a rise with our belated backup.

"You should have seen it. I have never seen two paladins fight like that." One phrase amongst many, whispered behind us. We were shown to Uther's tent, and the Highlord sat on a stool, studying the explosion of papers on his field desk.

"Congratulations, Roseleyn." He stated. "How does it feel?"

It should have felt wondrous, a vindication for the hells of the past six years of my life. I should have felt pride, but only knew a bated, resigned wait. "I feel...empty." I stated. "I feel..." No words to describe what I felt, and I let them drift off. Justin nodded in agreement.

"I am sending you back to Lordaeron to serve Terenas." Uther stated, and I frowned. On one hand, such a great honor, on the other....

"Now that our Rose has bloomed, and fights beside me as she was always meant to, you send us to do a ceremonial posting?" Justin demanded, and Uther did not immediately reply, his eyes on the myriad of papers before him.

"You and Roseleyn have been in the field for a year straight now. She still limps from Zul'Aman. Neither one of you are up to weight, or in true fighting trim. Now, indeed, that our Rose has bloomed, it is the time to send you for this posting. She has never bloomed except in adversity, Justin. Now I want both of you in Lordaeron."

"Highlord?" I whispered, and he glanced at me through his bristling, silvering brows.

"Some of the reports I'm getting from Lordaeron are disturbing. Illness moves in the north, and tales of a dark group operating there keep cropping up. I send my king my best, Justin, Roseleyn. Watch over him for me." He reached in his pouch and pressed a coin into Justin's hand. "And buy this girl a drink for me. She deserves it."

I always enjoyed Lordaeron, the capital was a vibrant, wonderful city. Justin was more than happy to ply me with beer and sweets and his company, and as Uther had predicted, I regained my weight and fighting edge. While we rested, however, there was the beginnings of an undercurrent of concern. The rumors flew, of illness and evil, too dogged to dismiss. I patrolled one of the balconies outside of the Throne room when I realized I was not alone and I was being watched.

"Roseleyn." The man stated, and I nodded. Some sort of caster, bearing a staff and shoulders adorned with ebony feathers. He had a long, lean face, intent dark eyes. I felt no danger from him, and I nodded.

"I am Roseleyn Redpath." I confirmed.

He took a deep, long breath, and reached for my hand. I gave it, warily, and he bowed, placing my knuckles against his forehead. "Greetings, your Highness." He breathed, released me, and hopped gracefully onto the railings beside me... then jumped. I bolted to the edge, we were easily sixty feet from the flags below, but there was no body, only a raven flying away.

"Bizarre." Justin noted, moving from his position on the stairs off to my side. "Mage, and he thinks you're royalty. Confused mage, then."

"Very." I agreed. No one had ever accused the Redpaths of nobility, or worse, royalty. I was a farm girl, born, bred, and pretty much raised. I drank beer and wiped my nose on my sleeves. No silk gowns or silver plates for me. "We going out tonight?"

"Surely."

Or so we thought. The first of the refugees began arriving that afternoon, fleeing not the troll pressures from Zul'Aman, but from the depths of Lordaeron proper. They all warned of sickness, and of murders in the night. I was never so glad that I had such a large family, filled with so many large, ominous and capable men. We were Redpaths, and we stood together, shoulder to shoulder. My father and my uncles had to be more than equal to the task of keeping the farms safe. They didn't need me, I was more useful here, in the capital, especially now that chaos brewed. I was pressed to help with the refugees, and I did not like their stories.

"I've heard tell that we've sent the Prince and Lady Proudmoore to scout the infected areas." Justin stated, and I chuckled. Yes, send the golden boy, and his golden girl, out to go look for shadows and illness.

"He's got to be a hero some time." I replied, and he nodded, passing me another crate. We had children to clothe and feed, scared little ones brought to us, too much work to worry now. And still, despite the dire words I was hearing, I was secure in the idea that those I loved were safe.

That ended suddenly one morning. With so many refugees, we had been ordered to double up our cells, which of course had put me bunking in Justin's room. There was a pounding on the door, and I grumbled. Justin was the closest to the door, and it was his room, so he answered.

"Justin. Roseleyn. The Highlord wants us all in the yard, immediately. He seems...upset."

That was never good. Uther rarely showed unpleasant emotions, and if he seemed to be upset, then he was probably _very _upset. I climbed to my feet, sent Justin a worried look, and ran my fingers through my hair. It was still early, the sun not over the ramparts yet, but Uther stood there, and beside him a young woman I did not recognize, but I could guess her identity from her violet robes and rumored beauty. Jaina Proudmoore. Last I'd heard, she was north, with the Prince.

"Paladins of Lordaeron." Uther began, "Brothers and sisters of the Order of the Silver Hand, I bring....dire....news. There is a plague brewing in the lands of Eastern Lordaeron." He sighed, frowned, gazed into the sky. "Stratholme, Sunnywood, Corin's Crossing, all have been infected."

Justin froze beside me, motionless, his face graying. I felt suddenly, horribly ill myself, Darrowshire was just beyond those settlements. Darrowshire... I felt wretched, I worried about Darrowshire, when Justin's home, family, were in Stratholme....

"Stratholme has fallen, her population is gone. Her lodge is gone."

Justin went to his knees, then grabbed me around my thighs and buried his face in them. No one looked askance at that, the assembled ranks remained bitterly silent, as bitterly silent as the tears I knew my best friend in all the world was shedding. "Stratholme was purged. Culled, so that her population would not know the horror of rising as undead, which is what this plague brings. Prince Arthas has decreed that we, the Order, has abandoned our duty to him, his family, and his kingdom and has abolished the Order."

_What_?!? Insanity. I was hearing insanity, utter, pure madness. "I do not serve Arthas!" I snarled loudly, the loudest voice in a flurry of them and Uther glanced at me. "I serve you. I serve my Order. I serve Terenas, rightful king of Lordaeron, and his kingdom! What says he?"

"Terenas does not uphold the decree, no, Roseleyn. We still serve under his auspices, and Lordaeron needs us now more than she ever has before. I need all of you to be strong..." He pulled up close to me, trailed by a detail of six of my brothers, men with dead eyes and set expressions. "For her. Roseleyn Redpath." He pursed his lips, glanced down at Justin. "Justin Lombard. I, under the power vested in me, place you both under..." His eyes went to his detail. "Arrest, to be placed in...."

"_What!?!" _I screamed at him, missing pretty much everything after that. Justin stood, stunned, his eyes flicking between me and Uther as he struggled to understand. I couldn't help him there, since I had no idea what was going on. Uther had lost his mind. Everyone had. This was...not happening. It was a suddenly unfolding nightmare, and I had to wake up.

"Roseleyn. Please, come with us. Don't make a scene..." One of the detail murmured, holding my shoulder. "Justin..."

"I will not!" I screeched, and Uther spun on me, taking my other shoulder with a grip just on the other side of too rough and together, the two of them walked me off, Justin trailing in our midst.

And once again, I was in a gaol. This time, however, it did not sit nearly as well with me as the first time. I had worked myself into a decent frenzy by the time Uther closed the door behind me, calling him every name I had ever heard on a battlefield or in a bar, and I'd heard quite a few. Justin was still silent, watching Uther stride away, leaving me to scream without him to listen.

"What the _hell_." I snarled, unaware that Justin stood just behind me.

"Rose." He breathed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me against him. "Roseleyn, my friend. I am so sorry."

Sorry? What was he sorry about? He'd just been told his family was dead, and he was sorry for me? "Justin?"

"We'll stay in here until it's over." He mumbled.

"Over?" Surely he couldn't mean what I thought he meant...

"Darrowshire. We couldn't make it in time even if we tried, we'd just kill ourselves trying. And if we were free, we would try..."

I screamed until I coughed blood and didn't have a voice to scream anymore, but he held me through it all.

"I will admit, Lord Uther. I don't like the idea of _holding _paladins, especially if you don't tell me what crime they're going to be charged with. Your girl screamed herself bloody, and that's just not natural. And the other just stares through me, and that's just not natural. What did they do?"

I opened my eyes. I was curled in a fetal knot against the bars, as close to the exit as I could get. Uther knelt just without, his hand on my shoulder. "They've committed no crimes, Orton." He breathed. "They're here for protective custody. Hello, Roseleyn."

"I hate you." I croaked, and Justin chuckled from the back corner.

"Not the first time you've told me that, Roseleyn. And once again, you have call to tell me that." He breathed, and I looked up at him. He looked as if he'd aged decades since the last time I'd seen him, only three days before. "I'm very sorry. Darrowshire has fallen, and all of her defenders with her."

My father. My mother. My siblings. My uncles and aunts. My cousins. Once a great and strong family, gone in less than a week. "Why did you do this to me, Uther?" Why was I here? Why had I not been where I was truly needed, standing with my family? My flesh. My blood. All gone.

"Why?" He demanded harshly. "Why? To keep you from riding to Darrowshire and dying there, just as I ordered your cousin held in Tarren Mill. To keep something left of that family, Roseleyn. I will fight for your family any way I know how. And the only way to keep you away from Darrowshire was to gaol you. Lordaeron needs you both. The Order needs you, we've lost so much, and it hasn't stopped yet." He stood, leaning against the bars, before he nodded at the gaoler. "Release them."

Malvery met us just outside of the gaol, his expression flat. "Roseleyn. Justin." He greeted, studying both of us. "Come to the Infirmary, I'll give you what help I can." He was oddly quiet, leading the way to an empty room off of the main bay of the Infirmary. I didn't ask why, with refugees pressing in, it was undoubtedly busy. "Are either of you hurt?"

"She screamed herself dumb and bloody. Other than that, no."

Malvery nodded, running his fingers through his thinning pale hair. "Sit." He ordered me, motioning at one of the two cots set up. I sat, and obligingly stuck my tongue out when he gestured for me to. "Badly swollen. You still have a voice?"

"Somewhat." I managed and he raised a brow.

"Better than I would have guessed. Roseleyn, Justin.... you know we mourn with you. We mourn for you. I don't know what else to say."

"There is nothing else to say, my brother." Justin said, hanging his head as he sat on the cot across from me. "How bad is it?"

Malvery froze, his eyes flicking between the pair of us. "Andorhal has fallen, and the plague is as close as Brill. There are plans to evacuate the Order from here if we cannot halt it soon... Terenas says he will not leave, but. Arthas has left Lordaeron, bound somewhere by ships, with those who would follow him. Jaina would not, Uther would not."

"Where is our fall back point? Where we will take the King and the court if it comes to that?" Justin asked, still as calm as he'd been.

"Arathi." Malvery stated, opening drawers and mixing something in a cup. "Roseleyn. Drink this."

I stared at him warily, feeling ill inclined to trust anyone but Justin, but when that one nodded to me, I took the cup and drank. "There is chaos everywhere, Justin. The city is still calm, but I can't say for how much longer. I wish we had time to let you both mourn properly, but we don't. I know Uther wanted to hold you even longer, but we need you."

Part 3.

The Resolute.

So many refugees, trying to make their way through the quarantines and gain admittance into Lordaeron. Never, when I was dreaming of becoming a paladin, fighting to, did I ever consider that my duties would include holding back my people from safety. Never did I think that I would stand while the world around me fell. Never did I dream that my own people would curse me, scream at me, spit upon me and worse, but I was the implacable force holding their families in danger. It was a thankless job, and the only balm for my soul was that it had to be done. This was no war, with an obvious enemy. I could not look upon the masses and cut out those who did not belong from the color of their skin, as my father and uncles had been able to. These were all equally my people. The ones I had sworn to protect. If only there was a way to protect them.

I grew calloused, hard, or so I thought. But then again, I also thought we had reached the bottom, the absolute nadir of hell, and I was obviously wrong.

The ship was a wonder of Kul'tiras crafting, one of our own fleet, the Crown Prince's colors flying, at dock. So he had returned. I glanced at Justin, ambivalence rising in my heart. I could not, after what I had seen, judge Arthas for his actions at Stratholme. Perhaps he had the steel mettle to lead us through this, as Terenas seemed to be lacking. We _waited _while Lordaeron rotted and her hale population ran. Why were we not fortifying Arathi to receive our displaced peoples? Why was the court, the king, lingering in the capital while the Order fought to keep them sound? Arthas was arrogant, impetuous, headstrong, but he'd shown a willingness to _act _while others played wait and see. In other words, he was a poor paladin, but perhaps not such a poor King.

"We should perhaps not be this obvious, Rose." Justin muttered, pulling me back from my visible point on the dock. "While I don't believe Arthas will uphold that ludicrous decree, we should not tempt him."

"Aye." I agreed, fading back. I returned to the cell, changing from my armor into one of my better dresses, passing through the joyous mobs of Lordaeron. Any excuse for relief, and Arthas's safe return from Northrend was definitely excuse enough. I allowed a gleeful young woman to place a garland of roses and ribbons on my head, and took a pocketful of petals when she pressed them into my hands. The bells tolled without pause, not the dark mournful ring of the funerary ones so commonplace now, but those which had rung when Arthas had been born. The day was beautiful, pure and sunny, and I stood on the stairs just below the entrance to the Palace.

"My prince! My prince!" The young woman next to me screamed when he became visible, throwing a torrent of rose petals over him when he drew even with us. He paused, captured some of them and studied them in his hand, before peering up into the terraces above him. Then his eyes dropped, to fall right on me, and I suddenly could not consider moving, not even to get rid of the cascade of petals in my own hands. He had changed, somehow, more than I was expecting. We had all changed, but this was more.

He was too far away to be heard, unless he yelled, and he most certainly did not yell at me. The tumult should have drowned everything out, but I heard him as clearly as if we stood in an empty room together. _"Roseleyn_."

He nodded, as if I had answered, and carried on. I allowed the crowds to push me along in the wake of his guards, ending up just outside of the throne room. The guards there recognized me without issue, and I was pushed up farther when they did not attempt to push me back. I was trusted enough to stand this closely.

Every hair on me stood at attention when Arthas threw open the doors to the throne room, and I followed at a distance, unwilling to stay behind, and unwilling to go forward.

"Ah, my son." Terenas greeted, and I froze when I heard the sing of a blade drawn. Arthas did not carry a blade, he bore a warhammer, but that...point down towards the shining floor, was a blade unlike any I'd ever seen before. "What are you doing, my boy?" Terenas's voice was uncertain, he knew, but did not believe. I knew, but could not believe. Time slowed, I felt as if were moving through cold molasses. We were fools, fools all. We had let a unheld decree keep us away, we had failed Terenas. Failed our king, failed our kingdom. Failed our people.

"No!" I screamed, but the scene will forever me in my mind as silent. Silent enough to hear Arthas's response... "Succeeding you, my father."

_This kingdom shall fall. And from its ashes shall rise a new order, which will shake the foundations of the World._

I ran. Light help me, but that I did, breathless through the streets I loved, back to the side of the man I loved. "Justin!" I screamed, and he glanced at me with worry.

"Rose?" He inquired, and beside him, my one surviving kinsman also looked up.

"Arthas!" Too much panic, too much sprinting had robbed my voice, and all I could do was point impotently in vaguely the correct direction.

"Arthas. Yes. Back. To see his father." Tarq nodded, still studying the orders for control of the refugees, new this morning. To hell with it all, they needed to be _out _of this city. Out of this kingdom. It was all fallen.

"Back to _kill _his father!"

"That is treason, Rosy." Tarquin noted calmly, "And will see you back in gaol."

I doubted that, since I had the proof of it. I might see a gaol again, and soon, since I knew Arthas was well aware of my presence in the city, and that did not sit well with me. "Treason!" I shouted, "Treason! Terenas lies dead and you call me for treason!"

"Wait, Rose." Justin had stood, and now balanced his warhammer in hand. "Terenas is dead? By Arthas's hand?"

"Yes!"

Tarquin stood, stunned, and then moved to the window and threw it open, leaning out. The streets were in foaming chaos, testament that something horrific had happened. "If this is so." He began, "We cannot stay here. Arthas will uphold his own decree. I have no desire to find myself gaoled for the crime of becoming a paladin, and I will not serve a murderer."

"We need to warn Uther." Ah. Sanity. From me. How refreshing.

Justin nodded, looked me up and down, his eyes on the roses in my hair and the panicked look on my face. "You do that. You blend well, and that cart horse of yours will blend as well. We'll meet you at the backup spot."

I found Uther on the battlements, his back turned on the city, gazing into the sunset before him. "Highlord!" I panted, and he glanced over his shoulder at me.

"Roseleyn. Is it the truth?"

So he knew already. I was not surprised. "Aye, it is. I saw it myself, my Highlord."

That got his attention. He spun on me, and strode up, almost too close. "You saw? You were a witness? What did you see, hear? Anything that was wrong? Out of place?"

"Many things were not right." I shrugged helplessly, and Uther merely motioned that away, hurrying me. "Arthas was not right. He was not dressed right. He bore a sword, not a hammer. He looked _wrong_. He felt wrong. He was calmer than normal, focused. He was dressed in black velvet and dark armor, nothing of Lordaeron. And the sword..." I shivered. "It is a baneful blade, Uther. He promised to drag down _Lordaeron_, on the blood of his father, his king..." I was babbling, but Uther kept nodding intently as I made my points.

"Did he see you, Roseleyn? You must be certain of this when you answer me."

"I am certain he did. He said my name, he met my eyes."

"Then you need to leave Lordaeron, take your two young men and get out of here, Roseleyn. I'm still going to need you to help me put this back together at the end." He stared back at the sunset and I knew what he didn't say. Whenever that end was. It had seemed we could go no further down, and now this. "Roseleyn. Stand tall. Stand strong. Be as resolute as your deed name says you are. These are dark times, but that is when the Light shines the brightest. Now, go."

I left Lordaeron by one of the lesser used ways, calling my charger, but none of his gear. As stated, he looked enough like a cart horse to blend in with the flurry of people flooding out of Lordaeron. It was ironic, that just yesterday, these were the same souls who had been flooding into Lordaeron seeking sanctuary. There was none here now, and I had no idea where there was any.

I left the road, and the throngs of people clogging it, cutting into the darkening forests. "Who goes?"

"Me, Rosy." I answered, and Tarquin stepped into the open, taking hold of the halter rope.

"Did you find him?"

"I did." I slid from Horse's broad back, but clung to his warm support. "The Highlord orders us away from the city. I feel he thinks Arthas will target us."

"This is insanity. Pure insanity, Rosy. I don't understand this at all." He breathed, also leaning against Horse. I had no answer for him. It seemed like I had no answers anymore at all, this world had run out of them. I was suddenly tired, dazed, and lost.

"Come here, Rose." Justin patted the ground next to him and I sat, contemplating the wonderful mindlessness of the patterns in the burning coals of the fire.

We had waited for three days, three days of silence and nothing but the forests around us, too heartsick and jagged to even attempt conversations to fill it. I had found a lovely place to fish, a fast, cold rill of water. Fresh food would be good, and I sat on a moss covered rock jutting over it and fished. I wasn't certain when it dawned on me that I wasn't alone anymore, and I looked back, expecting Justin or Tarquin.

_"Roseleyn." _It hadn't been my imagination. His voice really did send a chill through me now. "Is the fishing good?"

In spite of myself, I glanced at the full creel beside me, and he nodded. "So it is."

"What do you want?" I managed more than a whisper, and was proud of myself for it.

"Want?" He asked, coming closer. Something terrible had happened to him, terrible and yes, great. "Roseleyn. I see into your heart and your soul." I wished I doubted that assertion, but there, in the silence, I did not. "My father stood by and let Darrowshire fall. _You _know he did, so busy listening to advisors, to emissaries, yet never giving their words any weight. The Kirin Tor called for a full scale quarantine, and he denied it. Perhaps had he bothered to listen, your family would stand whole still."

I felt as gutted as the fish beside me. It was truthful, but. "Arthas..." I managed, and he sent me a rueful smile.

"Decide who you still serve, Roseleyn. I offer you a chance to uphold your oaths to my family, my line. Serve me. I still stand, while precious little else does."

"You are part of the reason _why _precious little does, damn you!"

"You blame me for Stratholme?" He asked mildly, moving yet closer. "I stood then. I did the hard thing when Uther and Jaina would not. What would _you _have done, Roseleyn? Let them die of the plague and rise as slaves to the darkness? Your beloved's family, gone like that?"

"No. I do not blame you for Stratholme."

"Do you blame me for killing my father? The old fool who sat and pondered and worried and _did _nothing?"

"No." I whispered, and he nodded.

"Then think upon my offer, Roseleyn. I am patient." That was a new idea, but indeed, there was no irony in his voice, and his expression was still calm. And he just...walked away. As if nothing had gone awry whatsoever, just another day.

My interest in fishing had fled, and I gathered up my creel and returned to the cave. I rehearsed several different ways of telling Justin, Tarquin, of the meeting, and finally dismissed them all. They didn't need to know. I merely handed the fish off to Justin, who took them and nodded. "Good haul."

I nodded. It was, and they'd make good eating. I was hungry, as always, while in the field. "We can't stay here forever." I finally stated. "Uther should have sent us word by now. We know the pull back was to Arathi. I guess...he's forgotten about us." It was more than conceivable. We were just three paladins amongst many, small in importance.

"Must have. Then we ride for Arathi?"

"As good a plan as any." Tarquin agreed, and turned his attention to the fish. We ate, and bedded down, I was, as usual, between the two of them, in the dark closeness of the cave. It was funny to hide when I knew Arthas knew where to find me, but it worked when a late night rain started.

We left early in the morning, Tarquin leading the way. I took the middle, and Justin trailed. The road was quiet, empty, a stark contrast to the panic it had been just days earlier and I swallowed down nervous nausea. There were signs that there had been the exodus I remembered, an upended cart here and there, dropped items left unclaimed and churned into the muddy way. "Where is everyone?" Tarquin finally asked after a couple of miles and I shrugged. I didn't know. And when I found out, I wished I'd never learned. I had been blissfully ignorant of the truth of what had happened at Darrowshire, to my family. I'd been told, but the telling was entirely different than the truth.

There was a form at the crossroads to Brill. If I was not mounted, it would come up to my elbows, and it still wore the tattered remains of a purple dress, and a lopsided bow in its dark braided hair. A child, a little girl... dead and wandering... on the road to the crown jewel of Lordaeron...

None of us could move, I doubted if we even breathed. After a long, terrible pause, Justin dismounted, walking past me. The girl tilted her head at his approach, then snarled when she judged him too close. "Be at peace, little one." He stated, and unleashed the brightness of the Light within him upon her.

It only worsened the closer we came to the capital. It was readily apparent that the vast majority of those I'd seen on the roads had not managed to flee Lordaeron, and remained here. My people were gone. First Stratholme, then Darrowshire, and now Lordaeron. All gone. Tears poured from my eyes, and I was not too proud to let them fall unhindered. My people deserved them.

Thank the Light there had been no children for me, that I was no mother, that there had been no little ones of Justin's to lose like this. All of our dependents had been in the capital, and I could see the obvious. Lordaeron had fallen. The city was dead, and there had been no true evacuation. "Justin?" I quavered, and he nodded.

"I love you too, Rose."

My cousin nodded, reaching across to grasp my shoulder and give it a harsh shake. Gentility did not work when the person you were touching was head to toe harnessed in armor as I was. "Rosy, Rosy, pretty Rosy." He stated.

"We're being watched." Justin snapped, and I nodded. There was something out there that was...well...there. Not empty, as most of them were now. This had a mind.

"We should avoid the city." I said, and Tarq frowned. Avoidance reeked of cowardice in his mind, and yes, my own. But if the roads inward had this many undead, how many still remained in the capital? The city had been home to a quarter of a million inhabitants normally, and had been filled to bursting with refugees. I was confident in my abilities. Confident in the abilities of my companions. But not quite _that _confident.

"She's right." Justin sighed, obviously he would have preferred it if I were not, but he was willing to give me the benefit of it. "What were the orders that Uther gave you, Rose?"

Yes, those. The last orders we had received. "He told me we, the three of us, needed to leave Lordaeron." And now I wondered if Uther had meant the capital city, or the kingdom as a whole. It had become a gray area I was willing to push if I had to. "He told me he needed us to be there when this was over. He told me to stand tall. Be strong. Be resolute."

"Then he definitely meant for us to not return to the capital until it was safe to do so." Justin's mind was obviously working along the same lines as my own. "Uther went to great lengths to make certain that the two of you, survivors of your line, survived this far. He went so far as to gaol both of you for that. Rose is right, we don't go to the city. We head straight for Arathi."

"But..."

"But we do no good if we're dead, Tarq. Right now, we follow Uther's orders. And we take care of ourselves, and Rose, until we know what we need to do."

It was a long road. The weather seemed to mourn with us, giving us low lying clouds and frequent halfhearted drizzles. It seemed like the sunny, bright Lordaeron that had been ours only days before was a near forgotten memory. And then we ran into refugees. We had been expecting relief, welcome, but they stared at us warily.

"Greetings." Tarquin, always the talker, began, and the older man with the five of them glanced between the three of us.

"Paladins." He used the word with horror, backing away, and I glanced at Justin with some concern. Certainly we had not been the complete beacons of Light we would have liked to have been at Lordaeron during the past few days, but what crime had we committed, as a group, to be greeted with this?

"We mean no harm." Justin attempted, and the man stared. "We..."

"Go away." The woman behind him snarled. "We don't want you."

I think part of Tarquin died then, and my soul was feeling none too hale itself. The world had turned in on itself in insanity when five bedraggled, panicked refugees told three paladins that they weren't wanted. "I don't understand." Tarquin was stunned wordless, but Justin was not. "We did not do this... We're doing our best to help."

"There will no help for us if we're traveling with you when the Prince finds you." The woman spat, gathering up the two little ones in her skirts.

"Prince?" Justin echoed, his expression darkening.

"Prince! How many of those do we have? Arthas!" She snarled back, and the older man grasped Horse by his bridle.

"Lady paladin." He said, softly, so I had to lean to hear. "Go far away. South, away from the Prince. He demands your surrender, and those of your brethren. Those who have not submitted have been killed. Uther the Lightbringer has already fallen to him..."

I felt ill, swaying in my saddle. Uther, fallen? Was that why there were no new orders? Why no one had come to get us? If the Order was running, in hiding from its own Prince, one of its own, then Lordaeron was rendered helpless... against the man who had sworn on his father's blood to tear it down. Our only hope was Stormwind. While humanity still lived and breathed, while I did, I was still a paladin. "Let's go." I breathed, gathering up my reins and moving down the road.

Tarquin was still silent, but after awhile, Justin glanced at me. "What did he tell you?" He finally asked.

"If Arthas means to bring Lordaeron to her knees as he claims, then we stand in his way."

"Of _course _we stand in his way!" Tarquin growled.

"We have been given the option to surrender and serve him. If not, he will try to destroy us."

"Madness." Justin stated, "So we ride for Stormwind and fall into the Order there?"

"Yes."

"Abandon Lordaeron, Rosy? I mean... It's our homeland." Tarquin dragged his eyes to me, stunned.

_It's our deadlands. _Somehow, we had lost it all. Somehow everything we had, everything we had built, was laid to waste. "Darrowshire and her defenders have fallen. And now, Lordaeron and her defenders have fallen. We have nothing here, and there's no help we can give here, now."

"Halt!" The voice was raspy, tired, and Horse stopped as if I had told him to. The other chargers threw their heads and whinnied at the form in the road, but I blinked.

"Malvery?" I demanded, and he startled, throwing the hood of his cloak back.

"Roseleyn!" He sent me an amazed look. "Justin. Tarquin. By the Light, you are all safe. We thought.... Where have you been?"

"Uther sent me out of the city when Terenas died, because Arthas had seen me. Had me take them with me. Tell me, Malvery...is it true? Has Uther...." The other two gazed at me curiously, I did not share hearsay of that level without some corroboration.

He sighed, taking Horse's reins in hand. "Yes, Roseleyn. It is true. Uther is dead, and Arthas killed him. We feared he had found you as well, last we knew you were in Lordaeron. He's killing the Order, literally. Some say he makes an offer of noblesse oblige, others that he just kills. Not just the paladins, although they are the main targets. The saner paladins are fleeing south, which..." he glanced at the men with me, "Appears to be your destination."

"I will not mindlessly sacrifice Rose on an insurmountable foe. Our death here serves nothing." Justin stated, and Malvery's expression lightened slightly. Obviously he wasn't certain if we were some of those _saner _paladins. Tarquin still looked less than convinced, and the aged priest studied him.

"I will not place my cousin in undue danger." Tarquin finally grumbled under the gaze. "Rosy is all the blood I know I still have. And Justin is my sword companion. If they agree it is safer to leave, and that we do not desert our duties by doing so, I bow to their judgment."

"Good. Then I have a task for you, which is definitely not a desertion of your duties, young Tarquin." He motioned for us to follow, and he had a camp set well off of the road. And he had a handful of wary young initiates with him, probably only a couple of months into their training. "They need to be taken across the Span." He sighed, and motioned to me to follow. "Your thoughts, Roseleyn?" He asked when we were out of earshot.

"What is there to consider?" I asked, although I was well aware there was plenty to consider. The three of us, alone, stood a decent chance of sliding through Hillsbrad, into Arathi, and from there, off of Lordaeron. Add a handful of ducklings, and that decent chance slid towards abysmal. "I fought for years to become a paladin, Malvery. You know that. It didn't come easy. The only thing that kept me going was that this was I meant to be. I believe that. Completely. That leaves me only one answer."

He nodded, the lines across his brows deepening. "Go in the grace of the Light, Roseleyn Redpath. May it protect you. May it keep you. And may you rest in peace when all is said and done."

"You too, Father Malvery, you too."

Justin was silent when I came back, Tarquin busy readying the initiates to go. "Roseleyn." He said when I pulled up to him. I knew I didn't want to hear the words, and likewise, I knew he had to say them. "I love you." He finally stated, wrapping his hand around the nape of my neck, and pulling me to him, temple to temple. "I will carry you with me, always. I have been blessed these past years."

"I...."

"You've already said it, Rose, in a much better time for it. You didn't wait until it was too late. Let's go."

They came the next day, and I was sickeningly honored. There were a dozen of them, to take the three of us. "Roseleyn Redpath." The death knight at their head challenged, and I stared back. I didn't feel fear, only a rising edge of readiness and nausea. "The master has asked for your surrender, and has offered you a place in his servants. What is your answer?"

"I will not serve Arthas." I bellowed back, and he shook his head.

"So be it, then."

And yes, it turned out that a dozen of them was not overkill. The Light shined upon me, upon Justin, upon Tarquin that morning with a blinding glare. I had never been so secure in who I was, what I was. My fighting was artistry. I could do no better. Those who loved me could do no better. I had no regrets, right up to the end.

Pain. Bitter, broken, burning pain, and to add insult, the death knight buried his fingers in the mop of my hair and yanked my head back. So much blood, again. Mine. Flowing unchecked. I was dying, with that greedy, gnawing weapon driven into me. "You." He breathed. "Put up one hell of a fight." He wrenched the blade free, and the pain was so vicious that I came back to my feet in answer. "Death would be easy." He laughed, and I had no breath to make words, even if I could come up with any. "Roseleyn Redpath. I curse you, and this is my curse.... Take as long as possible to die."

_"So be it." _I had never heard the voice in my soul before, it was female. Rich, loving, mourning and angry. _"She will take as long as possible to die." _

My world fell out from underneath me, and I collapsed into a sodden pile at his feet.


End file.
